


Call It a Day

by luredin



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Feels, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ficlet, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luredin/pseuds/luredin
Summary: Bucky is recovering. Steve is hovering. It might be tragic if it isn’t so very, very sweet.





	Call It a Day

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as a companion piece to my pre-war cuddling fic, _A Winter’s Night_ , but doesn’t need to be.

Steve tries to slip into the brownstone without making a sound. He knows he’s late, and Bucky probably went to bed hours ago. The quinjet had landed them at Stark Tower just after ten o’clock, and Steve had fought the very familiar over-riding urge to book it straight home. The rest of the team was used to his running off immediately after a mission these days, in order to get home to Bucky—in order to check in on Bucky. Even if he pretended that wasn’t what he was doing, they all knew _that was exactly what he was doing_. So tonight, when the jet had landed and everyone had rolled into the tower exhausted and grimy and starving, and Tony had extended his usual offers of hot showers and food all around, shock had rippled through the room as Steve acquiesced for the first time in months.

“Do my ears deceive me?” Tony had asked after stopping dead in his tracks and turning to face Steve. “Did Captain Tight-Pants just agree to deign us with his presence tonight?” 

“Shut it, Stark.” Steve’d replied with all of his considerable years of couth to back him up. “Just point me in the direction of the hot water. And for the love of all that’s holy don’t order anchovies on the pizza again!” 

Steve had decided that tonight was going to be the night he would start giving Bucky more space. He knows he needs to stop hovering, stop fussing, stop running home to continually check on Bucky. His constant monitoring of The Situation isn’t healthy, for either him or for Bucky. Bucky is doing really well, and his therapist said it was important for Bucky to spend more time independent from Steve. 

Steve understands. He really, really does. The hard part is getting his brain to convince his heart to go along with the plan. Staying late with the team had been good for him. ‘The After-party,’ as Stark had taken to calling it (complete with air quotes) was a good way for everyone to decompress after an adrenaline-fueled mission. ‘Decompress’ was a fancy twenty-first century psychology term that loosely translated to ‘take time to get your shit together’. 

Steve was learning _all_ the lingo. 

And he was grateful for the time to get cleaned up, to clear his head, and to just chill with his friends for awhile. ‘Chillin’ is what Barton called decompressing, and it should have been relaxing. But Steve had spent the majority of the time anxious to get home. He needed to get home so that he could watch Bucky, y’know—watch Bucky sleep—which sounds sort of creepy in his head, now that it’s after midnight and he’s carefully slinking back into the house like he’s doing the walk of shame. He’s _not_ creepy. He’s just...concerned. And maybe, possibly overly-attached. 

Story of his life. 

Bucky hasn’t gone to bed yet. But he isn’t awake, either. Steve finds him tucked into a the corner of the sofa, blanket half-covering his body. His face is buried in the back cushion, and he’s softly snoring. Steve’s heart swells and stutters inside his rib cage as he stops to watch. There’s a warm glow from the television quietly chattering in the background. Bucky looks so peaceful that Steve is afraid to move, which is silly, because Bucky can’t stay scrunched up like that all night. Steve has a momentary worry about sneaking up on Bucky unaware while he’s so clearly out, but Bucky’s been doing so well these past few weeks. Steve almost can’t remember the last time he was woken by Bucky’s nightmares. 

He slips out of his shoes and tosses his jacket on the nearby armchair before swiping the remote from the coffee table and flicking the TV off. Bucky stirs at the loss of white noise and slowly blinks awake. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says quietly. 

Bucky shakes his head and sits up a little straighter, the blanket slipping farther off his lap. “Hey,” Bucky yawns and begins to stretch. “Guess I fell asleep waiting up for you.” 

“You were waiting up for me?” Steve asks, mild panic rising in the back of his mind. Had Bucky needed him and he hadn’t been here? He should’ve never agreed to hang out with the rest of the team. _Dammit_

Bucky looks up at Steve, sleepy smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I thought I’d save you a step tonight, punk.” 

Steve doesn’t understand what that means, and he says as much, taking a step towards the sofa. He resists the urge to tug the blanket back up around Bucky, and instead fidgets nervously. Bucky snorts, clearly amused by Steve’s scared deer-like movements. 

“It’s the first thing you do as soon as you get home from a mission. Check on me. I figure it’s to make sure I haven’t murdered anyone in my sleep or, ya know, spontaneously combusted in your absence.” Bucky grins and scratches the back of his head before another tired yawn escapes him. 

Steve opens and closes his mouth several times. “Buck that’s not. I don’t think. I know you wouldn’t.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries again. “I know I’ve been...hovering...a lot lately, and if I’ve made you think...” 

“Shush, Stevie. C’mere.” Bucky reaches out a hand towards him. 

Steve hesitates, unsure if he should take Bucky’s hand in his even though every fiber in his being is longing to just sink down into the sofa, into Bucky. But this is new. Yes, he and Bucky have been growing closer and closer over the last few months, but physical contact of this magnitude, which at the moment seems enormous, hasn’t yet been attempted. At least not in this century. 

“Stop over thinking it, Rogers.” Bucky wiggles his fingers, still hovering mid-air and Steve relents. He twines his fingers, still chilled from his walk from the subway, around Bucky’s. Bucky’s fingers are warm and inviting, and they tug him down onto the sofa. Steve feels himself melting as his anxiety over the night recedes. Bucky continues to pull him down until he’s able to throw his arm around Steve’s shoulders, and Steve’s head is resting on Bucky’s chest. 

“So. We cuddlin’ now?” Steve asks with a teasing lilt. 

Bucky chooses to ignore him in favor of settling their bodies more comfortably together. He buries his nose in Steve’s hair and brushes his lips against his temple. “You smell good. Why do you smell so good? You never come back from missions smelling like this.” 

Steve bites back a laugh. “Why, you jealous? You think I’m steppin’ out on you?” 

“Ha, ha,” Bucky deadpans. 

“I showered at the tower.” And then, when Bucky doesn’t reply, Steve adds, “We, um, we ordered pizza and hung out for awhile.” 

Bucky still doesn’t say anything, so after a minute, Steve tilts his head up so that he can see the expression on Bucky’s face. “What’s that look for?” 

“Nothin’,” Bucky sighs and presses another kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Just thinking.” 

“‘Bout?” 

“Look at us,” Bucky says softly. “You staying out late with your friends, me waiting up for you.” 

“Except you fell asleep, old man.” 

“Yeah, well. I’m just saying, look at us. It’s almost like we’re real people again.” 

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just brings the blanket up closer around them and tightens his grip where his arm’s tucked around Bucky’s side. They stay like that for awhile before Bucky asks if Steve wants the TV turned back on. 

“Mmmmfff.” Steve shakes his head against Bucky’s shoulder. He didn’t realize that he’d closed his eyes, and that Bucky has been gently stroking the short hairs on the back of his neck this whole time. The silence is comfortable and reminiscent of another place and time. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Steve feels like he’s going to be alright. He feels like Bucky’s going to be alright. 

He feels like _they’re_ going to be alright.


End file.
